


Prickle & Off Menu

by boomturkey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, EJP Raijin - Freeform, F/M, MSBY Black Jackals - Freeform, Post-Time Skip, Spring Nationals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29099562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomturkey/pseuds/boomturkey
Summary: Two short stories:PrickleDuring the last Spring Nationals of his high school career, Suna wanders around the stadium looking for distraction. He finds one, though she’s not quite the damsel he had assumed.Off MenuAfter their most recent loss, The Raijin go out for drinks with the Black Jackals. Hinata brings along a friend, leaving her in Suna’s hands to keep her entertained
Relationships: Suna Rintarou/Yachi Hitoka
Comments: 38
Kudos: 188





	1. Prickle

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday [CoraxonArt](https://twitter.com/CoraxonArt)! This is from Sonja to you! 💖

There is only so much weird team dynamic Suna can take before he decides to bail. If it isn’t the twins being annoying as hell about playing their last tournament together, it’s Atsumu bullying the first years into taking Karasuno _seriously_.

It’s their third time at Spring Nationals, only on day two, that a first year looking like they’re about to faint, that tears it for Suna. If he has to hear one more goddamn thing about Karasuno and their _’demon pair’_ , Suna is going to have to murder the twins, and Gin will just have to be captain. In the interest of preserving the lives of his teammates, as well as his own sanity, He takes himself for a walk around the stadium concourse.

People-watching should be enough of a distraction so that he doesn’t end up inadvertently throwing Atsumu into a garbage can the next time he mentions Karasuno. Fuck, if he never has to hear their goddamn name ever again it’ll be too soon. A year of Atsumu droning on about them, both twins being sulky when they failed to qualify for the Inter-High, and all the game tapes he’d been made to watch, were all enough to make him dissociate just a little when anyone brought the fuckers up around him.

Hopefully that won’t happen in Inarizaki’s game tomorrow against the crows, because if Suna thinks Atsumu is annoying now, wait till Suna fucks up against his ’ _fated_ ’ rivals. At least after tomorrow it’ll be over, come what may.

Now just to avoid thinking about Karasuno for a good couple of hours, that’s enough for him.

As if the gods are laughing at him, what does Suna see as he rounds the corner into the vendor’s hall? A fucking telltale black tracksuit. _Grrreeat_. He’s just about to turn on his heel and go back the way he came, when he notices that the spotted tracksuit is an awful lot lower to the ground than usual — too low even for that orange-haired psycho. Upon taking a closer look he can see the blonde swing of a ponytail.

Ah, their manager then.

After last year’s loss at Spring Nationals, it had been Gin who’d loudly complained on the way home about how unfair it was that not only had Karasuno come from nowhere to win, they also had the audacity to have not one, but _two_ cute managers?

At the time Suna had shrugged, unbothered. Sure, there was an ice queen and a bubblegum sweet princess for managers, but it didn’t do them any good in the end. They ended up losing the next day anyways. And having cute managers always seemed bothersome to him . You have idiots like Gin and Kosaku who get all stupid and grandstanding around girls, so having some girl attend practice with them regularly sounds kinda annoying to him, honestly.

However nice the little bubblegum blonde is to look at, it doesn’t change that she is a distraction. Hey, if Suna is lucky maybe she is at the center of some sort of club intern love drama and her little band of second-year weirdos would play like shit tomorrow. A guy can dream.

Suna’s about to turn, completely disinterested in pursuing any more thoughts of Karasuno and their distractingly pretty managers — especially when he is going to have to deal with _Atsumu’s bullshit_ when he rejoins the team — when movement out of the corner of his eye catches his attention.

Are those the representatives from Kanagawa? Suna blinks. What exactly are they doing? His eyes track the blonde manager bobbing and weaving through the crowd — impressive given she has her face tucked into a notebook. The players from Kanagawa prefecture bob and weave with her, several paces behind, heads bent low, just oozing creep factor. She looks none the wiser.

Suna sucks on his teeth. Welp, it isn’t any of his business. One of her teams nutjobs can come rescue her if she’s in trouble.

Despite that, he still finds himself unable to turn away, continuing to watch as the girl lifts one hand to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear. Behind her one of the taller boys elbows another, laughing — something in the sound makes Suna clench his teeth. Boys just being boys, right? It’s fine. Probably.

One of the creeps shoves another slightly forward, the other two smirking. They certainly don’t seem like infatuated school boys. Not when these bastards are so big and she is so tiny.

Hell, she’s probably shorter than Suna’s own sister — now in her last year of middle school. Oh goddamn hell. Why’d he have to go thinking about his sister? Her shoulders mimicking his own at a persistent slump, disinterested expression on her face as she wanders around with her nose in her phone. His sister definitely wouldn’t notice if some creeps were following her around either.

That thought cycles through his brain several times as he tries to unstick his feet from the ground and backtrack down the hall away from this bullshit. Goddamn, where the hell is her team to deal with this shit?

One of her stalkers makes a lewd gesture at his friends, making them laugh again and it’s enough to finally unstick his feet — not that he’s going the direction he wants. But some assholes need to learn a lesson. Suna’s pretty sure he’d kill someone for doing anything similar to his sister.

Swearing to himself Suna stuffs his hands into his pockets and moves to intercept the creeps. He steps in front of the gaggle of idiots, forcing them to stop short and and jump back otherwise they’ll run into him. pleased to see he’s taller than all of them. He looks down his nose at them, aiming for a Kita-level disapproving stare.

The Kanagawa reps stare at him baffled, before one of the dickheads decides it’s a good idea to try and step around him. Pressing his lips together, Suna obliges him and bends sideways to block his path, hands never leaving his pockets. That pulls the little bastard up short again.

“Can we help you?” King Dickhead asks, mouth pinched and hands curling into fists.

Suna’s expression doesn’t shift as he rightens himself and tilts his head. “Yeah.”

They look at him expectantly, King Dickhead and his Dickhead Jesters all puffing up with irritation. Suna would rather not get decked, but it feels like a vindicating enough lesson for the three bastards in front of him to get ejected from the tournament for smacking him around.

“What the fuck do you want?” King Dickhead snarls at him, taking a threatening step closer. It’s almost adorable, in the way a yappy puppy biting your ankles is. These idiots obviously don’t know that he was forged in the fires of Miya twins hostility. A bit of posturing ain’t shit to him.

Suna tilts his head back, pursing his lips like he’s thinking real hard about it, before he gives a lazy shrug. “How about you creeps walk on back to your team so we don’t have any problems here, hmm?”

The Dickhead Jesters at least have the grace to look mortified, already edging away. King Dickhead on the other hand looks a bit apoplectic, taking another useless step closer towards him. The asshole barely comes up to Suna’s chin. “Who’re you calling a creep?”

Welp, if he wants an honest opinion, may as well give it to him. “You. Don’t go following girls around.” Here Suna takes a step closer, hands still in his pocket as he bends in close, expression placid as all get out — he’s learned the key to being intimidating as hell from Kita. “Like the weird _little_ creep you are, hmm?”

King Dickhead’s face flushes bright red, and Suna is certain he’s going back to Inarizaki with a black eye and the satisfaction that a creepy little weirdo ain’t going to have his time to shine at Nationals when a voice cuts through the noise in the hall. “Oh, please don’t fight! You’ll be ejected from the tournament.”

Suna looks over his shoulder to find Karasunos manager herself staring at him wide-eyed, notebook clutched in front of her, looking anxious as hell. The Dickhead Court takes that moment to bail, the Jesters grabbing their shitty King and dragging him away. Well this isn’t how he wanted this encounter to go at all.

Hands still in his pockets he turns to fully face her, giving her a shrug. “I didn’t start it.” That isn’t necessarily true, but he feels pretty certain he had the moral high ground in that whole interaction.

The girl blinks big, shiny brown eyes at him, her lips parting — she abruptly freezes, fingers gripping her notebook so hard it bends. Suna’s about to ask what’s wrong when she abruptly flails into a deep bow. “Number 10, Suna Rintarou-san from Inarizaki!”

Suna stares at her bowed head, utterly confused. What the fuck was that? “I’m number five now.” is what he comes up with.

She jerks to a stand, staring at him in horrified embarrassment. “Oh! Of course! I’m so sorry! I apologize! That was so rude of me!” And then she’s back to bowing, moving alarmingly fast. Suna has the brief mental image of an extremely contrite samurai declaring they’ll commit seppuku in the most irritatingly effusive way possible.

He hadn’t meant to humiliate her, what the heck is up with this reaction? Suna pulls a hand out of his pocket, trying and failing to catch her shoulder as she continues to bow at him, muttering under her breath about how _sorry_ she is.

“Hey Karasuno, could you maybe stop for a second?”

She stills, halfway into the motion of another bow, looking up at him through long pretty eyelashes, cheeks flushed. Suna stares down a bit dumbstruck at her. What the heck happened to the cute girl-child with the side ponytail last year? Last year she had reminded him a little bit of Hello Kitty, with her sugar sweet smiles and anxious hand clasping. The girl in front of him now is all flushed rosy cheeks, big liquid brown eyes, and rosebud lips. How the fuck had she gotten this pretty in like, a year?

She says something, but Suna is so transfixed by the motion of her hand tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear that he completely misses it. She’s staring at him, expectantly.

“Huh?” he asks, extremely intelligently.

She licks her lips, face still flushed and Suna does his very level best to pay attention to her words and not her mouth. Yup. Good job Suna.

“Yachi Hitoka. I don’t know if you remember from last year, I’m a manager for Kara-”

“Yeah, Karasuno. I remember.” Goddamn does he kinda wish he remembered more of her than the time Osamu nearly nailed the scoreboard near her with one of his homerun serves. He’d thought it was hilarious the way she’d jumped back then.

Yachi looks a bit relieved, the grip on her notebook loosening fractionally. And then she starts gnawing on her lip and Suna’s pretty sure he’s never empathized with Gin so much before. Goddamn everything she does makes him a bit stupid.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be fighting in between games. It could get you ejected from the tournament.” Her fingers twist in front of her and she does that thing where she shyly looks up at him through her lashes again, or maybe that’s only happening because she’s so goddamn tiny. Either way it turns his brain into heated mush.

Feeling the need to explain himself, because he’s not some psycho who goes around picking fights — in fact, Suna is all about staying in his own lane, and never getting involved in other people’s junk, except to record it. For posterity. And blackmail. He says, “Yeah, those dumbasses looked like they were trying to be little creeps, so I, uh, tried to step in.”

Yachi’s brows pinch and her head tilts to the side in question. Does she have to look so goddamn cute doing everything? “Little creeps?”

Suna rubs at the back of his neck, flicking a glance over his shoulder where the Kanagawa dickheads had disappeared a moment ago. “Yeah, they looked like they were stalking you or something, so I figured I may as well... do something about it?” He hates how his voice goes up at the end, turning it into a question. Fucking lame.

Yachi however doesn’t look touched, or moved, or grateful in any capacity. Instead she leans around him to look down the hallway, before her nose wrinkles. “That’s very kind of you Suna-kun, but I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself.”

The ‘Suna-kun’ isn’t enough to take the sting of her dismissal away. Rocking back on his heels, he stuffs his hand back into his pockets and shrugs at her. suddenly feeling very stupid and silly. “Welp, I’ll take this as my cue to go then.”

“But it was very kind.” Suna stops halfway to turn and look at her. She’s beaming at him, and goddamn if she isn’t even prettier and glowy like that. “You’re a very nice person Suna-kun.”

Suna’s nose wrinkles, looking over his shoulder — god forbid one of his teammates witness this. “Look, I’m really not—”

He’s cut off by the feeling of a small hand on his forearm, causing him to turn back. While turning he notices how surprisingly close Yachi has gotten, her eyes squeezed shut and an adorable little blush dusting her cheeks. His head jerks to the side just as she leans in to press a kiss to his cheek, only that his new head position aligns their mouths and for a brief hairsbreadth of a second, Yachi Hitoka, pretty manager of Karasuno, presses a kiss to his lips.

Suna has barely half a second to process just how soft her lips are, and how she kind of smells like mint and air salonpas before her eyes fly open and she wheels backwards with a squeak. She drops her notebook and slaps her hands to her cheeks, now bright scarlet red. Suna stares at her a bit dumbfounded, unable to form a coherent thought. The girl looks like she might be hyperventilating. He’s pretty sure his cheeks are probably fucking rosy too.

Feeling otherwise useless, he bends down to pick up her notebook, holding it out to her.

Her gaze skitters from the outstretched notebook to his face and back to the notebook, eyes wide and too bright. And then she’s aflutter with too much nervous energy again. She swipes the notebook, throws herself into a deep bow. Squeaks a rapid, “I’m-so-sorry-oh-my-god-I’m-so-sorry-I-need-to-runaway-now-sorry!” and then turns on her heel and flees down the hallway.

Suna watches her go until she is well out of sight, still kinda flabbergasted how this happened. Though, stuffing the hands back into his pockets, he might actually has pep in his step as he makes his way back to the team. They’re playing her team tomorrow, right?

By now he smirks to himself. Maybe Atsumu has been onto something this whole time. Karasuno is definitely something to look forward to now.


	2. Off Menu

Call Suna antisocial all you want, he’s never going to enjoy these loud mini-reunions post V.League matches. Oh, sure, playing against the MSBY Black Jackals is fun, especially when the Raijin win and Suna gets to casually gloat over Atsumu. But that doesn’t make these post-game izakaya excursions anymore enjoyable for him.

It always ends up with Komori, Atsumu, and Bokuto being excitable, egging each other on with Washio periodically intervening like a good-natured fatherly figure. Only this year MSBY has deigned to add a few brand spanking new thorns into Suna’s side. Sakusa has always been one of Suna’s least favorite people to play against in high school. His block could only be tooled so many times before a guy lost his mind. And then there’s Hinata _fucking_ Shouyou, able to do everything and anything on the court, miles better at it than almost anyone else around him. And he’s still a quick little fucker too.

Sakusa wouldn’t be so much of a problem at these post-game meals. In fact, he was looking forward to his presence tempering Komori a bit. Only apparently Hinata induces temporary insanity like some sort of Lovecraftian elder god wherever he goes, because now everyone around him is engaging in an arm wrestling match — even Washio. Suna is pretty confident that by the end of the night even Sakusa will be participating.

The joy of getting to play in Tokyo means they are absolutely spoiled with choice for where to go — not that it matters, Atsumu has been insistent that a traditional izakaya is _the best_. Fine, whatever more cheap beer and hearty food, that he can manage. Worse than all that though, is that tonight they have a hanger on.

Yachi Hitoka sits next to Suna on the far side of the table, abandoned by Hinata within minutes of sitting down so he can cajole Atsumu and the rest into an arm wrestling competition. Yachi has apparently come to watch EJP vs. MSBY (?) and the reward for her friendship is to get ditched at the table, right next to the person least able to carry a conversation with her. _Awesome_.

Suna has vague recollections of her from the two times Inarizaki had played Karasuno in High School. Tiny, blonde, adorable as hell, but in a sweet ‘tuck her into your purse like a cute puppy’ kinda way. She’s grown up since he last saw her five or so years ago. Still teeny tiny, but now she gives off a put-together young career woman impression. No more ‘put her in your purse’ but instead ‘take her for a black coffee at a fancy coffee shop and talk to her about taxes’.

On the far side of the table Hinata hoots as he slams Atsumu’s hand down, triggering a round of delighted shouts from Komori and Bokuto. If they get kicked out of the izakaya before he gets his food he’s gonna kill someone. They’ve only just ordered, beers and waters and sake littering the low table around them.

He and Yachi haven’t exchanged words except for the exuberant introduction Hinata gave them when they sat down earlier, and Suna is actually starting to feel a bit awkward. What he wouldn’t give to have his phone right now. Goddamn Washio confiscating it, telling him to interact with people like some kind of dweeb.

He side-eyes the small woman sitting on her zabuton a few feet away from him, sipping her beer with the indulgent magnanimity of an often ignored housewife. She’s awfully good-humoured for someone basically being ignored so her supposed _“friend”_ can goof off with Komori and the other band of idiots gathered on the far end of the table.

Suna doesn’t know how she looks so patient. If it were him— If it were him he wouldn’t have been dragged into this kind of situation in the first place, and if he had, he’d just be dicking around on his phone while he drank beer, ignoring everyone around him. Screw Washio and his insufferable _“It’s not polite Suna”_ horseshit and preaching to him about paying attention to his surroundings.

She just continues to observe the... are they thumb wrestling now? Fucking nerds. Yachi on the other hand seems perfectly content to continue watching Hinata challenge people. Her eyes crinkle at his shout of jubilation having beaten Atsumu for a second time, now even left handed.

Does she not feel awkward? Because Suna feels real fucking awkward. Overcome by the need to fill the silence on their end of the table, he clears his throat, making big brown eyes flick up at him in question. “So uh, you come here often Karasuno?”

Yachi stares up at him blankly for a moment — probably unable to believe that Suna’s talking to her, he doesn’t get it either — before she gives him a polite, neutral smile. “I only moved to Tokyo about a month ago so I haven’t been to many places.” She pats the wooden table in front of her, “This is my first time here.”

“Cool.” Suna nods, not knowing how to follow that up. And then he continues nodding like a dweeb because somewhere along the way he figured his brain would figure out words to say if he just keeps bobbing it around. She gives him one of those smiles where the corners of your mouth don’t curve upwards, which makes him feel even more lame.

He’s never letting Washio part him from his phone ever again.

“How about you Suna-kun?” Yachi asks after a moment, fingers drumming on the side of her beer glass.

Suna shrugs. “Nope. First time.”

“Ah.” Yachi hums, now also stuck in perpetual head nodding. If Suna weren’t so freaking hungry he’d just bail. But he’s ordered food and he wants it dammit.

“Tokyo is a big city,” Yachi offers, brows wrinkling _juuuust_ a bit, like she is well aware of how inane that statement is.

“Yep,” Suna agrees, contemplating guzzling the chili oil sitting in the middle of the table for something more interesting to do.

They sit in silence for maybe another minute, Suna’s fingers itching to pick up that chili oil jar, when Yachi’s reedy voice cuts through the sounds of jubilant goading coming from the far side of the table. “Are you trying out for the National Team Suna-kun? I know Kageyama-kun and Hinata-kun are.” She looks so incredibly earnest, he almost feels second-hand embarrassment for her.

“Yeah. I am.” And then he sees something in her expression — she has one of those painfully expressive faces where you know _exactly_ what she’s thinking at any given moment. And right now, there is a little something of... doubt? Disbelief? No. It’s surprise. She’s surprised he’s trying out. He’s almost dumbfound by the swell of indignation he feels in his chest.

Sliding his tongue over his teeth, Suna gives her a narrow-eyed stare. “I mean, I’m no _Hinata-kun_ or _Kageyama-kun_.” His voice a breathy falsetto to imitate her. “But I’m pretty sure I won’t have any problems, thank you very much.”

Yachi blinks at him, lips parting. She waves her hands between them. “Oh, no I didn’t mean-”

Suna gives her a dismissive shrug, feeling petty. “I know, I know. You’ll never put me up on a pedestal like those two, but I promise I’m not a scrub either.” He leans forward on the table, propping his chin in his hand as he eyes her, waiting for that satisfying moment of her going red in the face and apologizing. He bets she’d look awful cute being flustered.

That doesn’t happen. Instead she just blinks at him, lips pursed, eyes more evaluating than offended. That is not the reaction Suna thought he was going to get. Quite suddenly Yachi’s face opens up into an amused smile. “Suna-kun, do you by any chance remember Tsukishima-kun? He used to play on Karasuno too?”

“The tall blonde glasses asshole?” Oh, Suna remembers him. Few other middle blockers ever really left an impression on him, but Tsukishima had been a pain in his ass two years in a row. Especially in Suna’s third year. “Yeah, I remember him.”

Yachi’s smile widens, eyes creasing. “Oh, then you should know I’m pretty used to friendly teasing.” She reaches across the distance between them to give his hand a pretty condescending pat. “So you’re going to have to try harder if you want me flustered.” She picks up her beer like it’s nothing, taking a sip, eyeing him around the rim, smacking her lips with a satisfied sigh.

Suna stares at her, mouth slightly agape. Did she just— Was that a challenge? Leaning back on his zabuton, his fingers flick against the rim of his sake bottle. “If I remember correctly, you were pretty easy to fluster in high school.”

Yachi tips her head to the side, mouth curving upwards — she really is very pretty. “Suna-kun, have you not matured since then? You should probably work on that.”

Suna blinks, startled. And then he can’t help but snort. Taking a sip from his sake dish he gives a lazy shrug. “I’m not the one following high school friends around, you know.”

Yachi’s eyes widen, puffing out her cheeks. “Aside from actually enjoying watching good volleyball matches, Suna-kun,” Yachi says primly, fingers swiping over the curve of her beer glass as she eyes him, looking like the cat that caught the cream. “It’s lucky for you that I am. I mean, who would you talk to otherwise? I wouldn’t want you to be lonely Suna-kun.”

Suna can’t keep the corner of his mouth from curling up. He leans forward on the table again, chin propped in his hand as he eyes her. “Yeah, that would be a pity. Not getting to watch you take little bird sips from your glass.”

Yachi, who’s about to take a sip from her beer, purses her lips at him. Suna gives her a wink. She doesn’t respond, so he takes the opportunity to take a swig from his sake dish. Yachi waits until he's swallowing to respond. “Better bird sips than drinking sake like some drunkard of an old man.”

Suna ends up inhaling a little bit of sake as he snorts, burning the back of his nose, making him cough and sputter. Laughing, Yachi hands him a napkin, which he takes gratefully, patting his face and wiping the table. When he feels he can speak again, he gives her a small smile. “So you said you’ve only been in Tokyo for a month?”

Yachi licks her lips and Suna can’t help but track the motion with his eyes. He’s lived in Tokyo three years now, so if she’s looking for someone to show her around, he’d be happy to. Yachi bites her lip, tucking errant hair behind her ears, finally a slight flush to her cheeks. “Mhmm.”

Suna leans towards her once more, enjoying the way even her ears turn pink now. “Well, if you’re—”

“Waugh! Yachi I’m sorry!” Hinata wails, wedging himself back into his spot between Yachi and Suna. “I didn’t mean to take so long, it’s just—”

Yachi laughs, patting Hinata’s arm. “It’s okay, you were having fun.” And then her eyes crinkle a little more as her gaze flicks to Suna’s. “Suna-kun was keeping me company.”

Hinata looks dubious, but he shrugs and gives him a big beaming smile. “Thanks Suna-san!”

Suna looks over at Yachi, holding her gaze a moment, before he shrugs. “It’s no big deal.”

Their food finally arrives, which is a welcome distraction from Hinata and Yachi’s mile a minute conversation catching up on their daily lives. While Suna gets roped into a heated debate between Komori and Atsumu, he swears he can feel Yachi’s eyes on him numerous times throughout the evening.

He certainly finds himself watching her whenever he has a chance, even willing to be dragged into conversation with Hinata just so he has an excuse to be looking in her direction.

But they don’t get to talk again for the rest of their time at the izakaya. After they’ve eaten and drank their fill, the bill all squared up, the Jackals get up to start spilling out of their private room, Yachi with them. She gives Suna a little finger wave as she follows in Hinata’s wake.

A damn shame. Suna isn’t familiar enough with Hinata to ask him about her, and Atsumu is a notorious gossip, so it’s not like he’s going to be bothering him for any information. Washio probably knows when EJP are supposed to be playing MSBY next, he’ll just ask him and hope Yachi shows up to that match. Maybe they can flirt a little bit more or something.

He’s just rolling to a stand, Washio and Komori already walking out of the room, when Suna catches sight of a pink scarf tucked next to the zabuton Yachi had been sitting on earlier. Has she forgotten it? The corner of his mouth curls up, now here’s a ready excuse to talk to her if he’s ever seen one. Heh. He picks up the scarf and is about to turn to leave — hopefully in time to catch up with the others — when a voice makes him jump.

“Oh good, you found it.”

Yachi stands in the doorway of their private room, wrapped up in her coat, sans scarf. Her cheeks are flushed, probably more than the cold outside warrants. Suna holds it up to her . “You forgot this?”

Yachi’s smile widens and she nods, stepping into the room. “Mhmm.” Suna holds it out , expecting her to take it out of his hands. She doesn’t, instead grabbing ahold of his wrist and tugging him down.

Suna is so surprised he allows himself to be yanked, head dipping nearly level with hers. In the same movement she rolls up onto her toes and presses a kiss to his mouth. Her lips are warm and she smells a bit like her beer from earlier and the karaage she’s had, and Suna finds he’s never tasted anything better.

Just as he raises his hands to hold her, Yachi darts away from the kiss, taking the scarf with her, but not before pressing something thin and rectangular into his hand. Her cheeks look extra rosy now, eyes shining as she looks up at him. “I have to go, but you should call me sometimes Suna-kun. I think I’d like you to show me around.” With that she departs, leaving Suna to stare at the doorway slightly dumbstruck, lips still tingling.

He looks down at the card in his hand, her business card with a phone number on it. She must have had the card ready before she went back in. Suna runs his fingers over her name ‘Yachi Hitoka’, grinning to himself like an idiot. Yeah, he thinks he might like that a whole freaking lot too.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/boomturkeyao3)


End file.
